


Running from the devil, but the devil takes hold

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Stargirl (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Introspection, Nightmares, No Dialogue, Not Really Character Death, Pat Dugan is a Good Dad, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: When the Justice Society dies, Pat has nightmares about them every night. That doesn’t change with the new JSA, but at least he gets to live with the knowledge that this time, his team isn’t really dead.
Relationships: Beth Chapel & Pat Dugan & Yolanda Montez & Rick Tyler & Courtney Whitmore
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Running from the devil, but the devil takes hold

**Author's Note:**

> I don't quite remember why I had the urge to write this but it was inspired by this tumblr post: https://s-t-r-i-p-e.tumblr.com/post/624638943394152449/you-ever-think-about-how-after-the-death-of-the-og so if you want to understand this fic, then check it out. Yolanda's section was the easiest to write, ngl. Also, I just love Pat so much.

Days, weeks, months after the death of the Justice Society, Pat endures sleepless nights, and the few occasions he does end up falling asleep from exhaustion, he is always woken in a cold sweat by nightmares. 

Some nights, he sees Ted, lying motionless on the ground, tossed to the side like a discarded ragdoll. Pat struggles to pull off his mask to see his face one last time, his suit rebelling until he gives up with the desperate notion but his wish will never happen and he just sits there and stares at his masked face. Some nights, he sees Jay, crumpled up like paper and contorted into broken angles, his head lolled to the side, his face coated in his own blood. Pat will try and wipe the blood away, but his hands come away wet and sticky, and the blood never fades. Some nights, he sees Charles, and his goggles askew on his forehead, his face contorted into a picture of fear and he turns him over onto his back. His owl is nowhere to be seen, and somehow, there’s an even deeper sadness to it. Some nights, he sees the others, their fates unknown and their absence a deep ache in Pat’s chest. He misses them, but how could he not? His heart beats once in tribute to them, alive or dead.

Most nights, he sees Sylvester and the way he had shoved the staff into his hand and begged him with his dying breath, mouth-filling with his own blood, to keep it safe and to find his successor, his eyes pleading as his life drained into the mud. Pat had held him as the light left his eyes, and the Cosmic Staff dimmed into acknowledgment and mourning.

It had sat in its crate for ten years, and so too did the other artifacts he had managed to scrounge up from the battlefield and carry home with him. And it all remained, untouched and undisturbed until young Courtney Whitmore came along and dragged a bunch of loners into the fold, and together they all managed to turn Pat’s life upside down.

Many, many years later, Pat was sure that the nightmares had ceased and the painful memories had long since faded. He thought he had buried that hatchet, had pushed those moments deep, deep down. That was, of course, until Courtney took it upon herself to be the hero the world needs and stick her nose where it really doesn't belong, and now Pat’s every waking moment is filled with constant terror of her not making it home one night and it being all his fault for letting her have that staff.

But it wasn't just Courtney he had to worry about now, no. He had to take care of other kids too, kids who never should have been brought into this, who never should have been put into danger, who-

They were just kids. All just children trying to find their way in the world. And Pat was frantically following them into danger just so what happened to the original Justice Society never happened again.

Suddenly he had these young kids he almost had to physically stop from running head-first into dangerous and foolish situations. These kids, so young and bright-eyed and full of life, willing to throw that all away for the greater good. These poor kids who didn’t know any better and had no idea the trauma and the pain and the agony that the life as a hero would grant them, prepared to risk their lives every day to protect those who can’t protect themselves.

It was foolish, Pat knew, but also painfully familiar. His team was just like that when they were starting out, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready for adventure. But now they’re all dead, and Pat is all alone, watching these poor kids come close to dying every night, and he had to re-live the early stages all over again.

Sometimes, he had to remind himself that they were just kids and that Courtney wasn’t an experienced superhero with a sentient staff or that Rick wasn’t an incredibly strong wrecking ball of a man with vengeance issues and anger management problems. But then sometimes he didn’t have to remind himself at all, when Yolanda sits awfully quietly after church some days, seated at the window and dressed in her Sunday best while she things about Henry. Or when Beth talks and talks and talks and doesn’t even expect anyone to listen as she subtly tries to get a hold of her parents and help out around the house with an eager expression. 

But they’re more than just kids now. He has to remember that. He has to keep in mind that these ‘kids’ could tear him to pieces if they really wanted to, both physically and mentally, and the fact that they held back was some sort of blessing. They weren’t just kids anymore, and they probably never would be again.

He wishes, not for the first time, that the staff hadn’t called to Courtney quite so soon, and that they had all been given a little bit more time to be kids. 

But he loves them all like a family because they _are_ a family. So he runs after them and picks up the pieces, hoping that the next day is better than the last but knowing, deep down, that it only ever gets worse from here. He lifts them up when they fall, he guides them when they are lost, and he tries to navigate being a father to three additional teenagers. 

It’s only a matter of time until the nightmares start again, and really, he should have seen them coming the moment Courtney laid her hands on that staff.

Some nights, he dreams of Yolanda. He dreams of her twisted and broken and dead. He dreams of Courtney crouching by her side and screaming her name, shaking her harshly to wake her but only making her limb body bounce and her head loll to side to side, staring up at her with unseeing eyes. Beth cries from his left, and from his right, a wall implodes as Rick slams a fist into it so hard that the entire foundation trembles. Courtney is screaming her voice hoarse, and Pat wants to go to her, go to all of them, but there is nothing he can do high up in the safety of S.T.R.I.P.E’s chest, so he bundles Yolanda up in his arms and carries her out and away, the others having no choice but to follow behind. Courtney always keeps on hand on Yolanda's ankle as her limp arms swing brokenly between S.T.R.I.P.E’s fingers. Behind them, Beth and Rick try to console each other, but Pat dreads what will happen the next day when Rick’s hour returns and Beth gets over her shock. Not for the first time, Pat is reminded of Ted and the way he had lain motionless so long ago and feels his heart twinge in regret that he was too late to save both of the Wildcat's.

But the next day Yolana is smiling and happy, her bright eyes filled with so much life. Her hair is braided into intricate patterns across her head. She playfully teases Rick and makes him flustered like a sister would, poking him in the side and giggling when he tries to swat her away. She laughs with Beth while they do their homework at the kitchen table, sharing stories of their school day and bonding over cuisine. She sits with Courtney on the couch and watches movies and reality TV shows with a bowl of popcorn between them, leaning into each other and laughing so hard they throw their heads back and their sides ache, throwing food at each other and wrestling belongings out of Max’s mouth. She even willingly and eagerly teaches the family some basic boxing training on the bag she convinced Rick to carry over, and they all learn a little self-defence under her watchful and knowledgeable eye, and even Pat participates, just in case they ever get attacked again. Pat breaths easier that night knowing that Yolanda lives, that she’s safe, and that he’ll see her again tomorrow.

Some nights, he dreams of Rick, buried partially beneath rubble and crumpled like a piece of paper, a pool of crimson soaking into his uniform and spreading out from beneath him, bleeding into the cracks and divots of the broken concrete. They're forced to flee, leaving his broken body behind, and Pat must carry Beth away in the arms of S.T.R.I.P.E as she screams and tries to wiggle free to reach him, clawing at the metal with her nails. Courtney floats on the staff beside them, looking quietly horrified and heartbroken and glassy-eyed, gripping the dully glowing staff with a tight-knuckled grip, refusing to turn around and look back behind her. Yolanda hangs onto S.T.R.I.P.E’s foot, letting the robot do all the work for her, as she covers her mouth with her hand and sobs quietly into the night until it gets late enough that Beth loses her voice from screaming and Yolanda's sobbing is the only thing puncturing the silent night. Back home, nobody speaks, and one by one they each go home and aren’t seen for a very long time, and Pat is once again left with the feeling that this was the second Hourman that he hadn’t been able to save and that if Rex could see him now, could see what he allowed to happen to his son, he would be more disappointed in Pat than Pat was in himself.

But after the mission Rick limps home, tired and sore but alive and mostly-well, refusing the offered drive home in that way he always does and instead stumbles home on shaky legs weak from adrenaline and bones achy from the constant battles. Pat stays awake all night, hoping that he doesn’t die in his sleep far away from anyone and everything. The next day, the purr of the mustang can be heard rumbling in the driveway, the sound as welcome a presence as Rick himself in their loungeroom, bruised and tired and sore, and smiling in that rare way that Pat only gets to see when he doesn't think Rick is watching. He will lean against the wall with his arms crossed and his head down as he plays with Max with his foot. He indulges Beth talking _at_ him about random facts she learnt from Chuck and reciting lines from her favourite movies with a small smile, watching her intently as she gets more and more animated, talking with her hands and wiggling in her seat. He trains with Yolanda, running circles around her and laughing at her plight as she struggles to catch him, letting her hit him with very little impact, picking her up and throwing her onto the couch before dodging her again, leaving her playfully frustrated and laughing. He listens to Courtney rant about things going on at school and teachers she doesn't understand and people she doesn't like and would occasionally look over her shoulder and help her with some science homework, or slowly take her through the many moving parts of his car so she can bond with Pat about their mutual love of automobiles. He quietly plays video games on the couch with Mike, clearly out of practice but enjoying it nonetheless. Pat will watch him, his heart beating solidly in his chest, and despite the bruises on his skin and the heaviness to his bones, he was alive and mostly happy, and Pat could survive another day knowing that he had managed to keep at least one Hourman alive. 

Some nights, he dreams of Beth, writhing on the ground as she clutches onto Rick’s cape, blood pouring down her face and her screams tapering off into pitiful cries. Yolanda is panicking, looking around for a way out of the situation, searching for something, anything that could help them, hands clenched at her sides and trembling. Rick carefully lifts Beth into his arms, cradling her to his chest as he gently hushes her, and runs her towards the closest hospital as she fists her hands into his tunic and cries into his shoulder. Courtney is fretting, reassuring Beth that she’ll be alright and that they would take care of her, sending fearful looks back at Pat as she struggles to keep up with Rick’s brutal pace. Pat just follows, wordlessly and horrified, as Yolanda and Courtney convince Rick to stop long enough to undress Beth and change her into civilian clothes before he bursts through the door of the hospital, kicking them open with such force that the metal bends and the glass shatters. They sit at the hospital hours later, Rick refusing to leave Beth’s bedside and glaring dangerously at anyone who entered, Yolanda standing guard outside her hospital room, Courtney shaking where she leans against Pat by the wall, both utterly drained and tensely horrified with the whole situation. Beth’s parents are hysteric, but can’t abandon their shifts. They’re not sure if she’ll survive, and if she does, she might never see again, and that’s the best-case scenario. Pat can’t help but think that this was his fault, somehow, and that he should have seen this coming.

But the next day she prances into their home with that beaming smile on her face, pausing to bend down and rub Max’s tummy as his feet kick in the air and give Mike a high-five as she passes him on the couch. She eagerly helps Pat in the kitchen while the others watch from the counter, chatting idly about her day. She lets Yolanda shyly talk about Henry and how much she misses him, rubbing her back and not pressing any judgement about it. She encourages Rick to sheepishly talk about his parents and his car and to tentatively walk her through the equations in his dad’s journal, despite not knowing what it means, but Chuck lets her know whenever anything interesting comes up, and he stumbles over his words when she makes him go back and points out certain equations. She lets Courtney lean against her and practice her oral presentations on her, asking Chuck to point out any inaccuracies and missing important details while Beth provides constructive criticism and praise. She curls up in a chair beside Barbara and silently reads a book, speaking out loud every now and then when Chuck has something to say about the terrible plot or bad writing. When Pat has to maneuver around her assertiveness in the kitchen, he looks at her big smile and gentle gaze and soft touches and is glad that this time, she came home to them, and that they can enjoy her light for another day.

Some nights, he dreams of Courtney, and her lying broken on the ground with her eyes unseeing towards the stars. Pat exits S.T.R.I.P.E then, an act he very rarely performs, and he pulls Courtney into his arms and cradles her against his chest, brushing her hair from her face and wiping the blood from her chin. They crowd around them, Yolanda creeping forward and wanting to touch but afraid to, Beth sobbing and hiding her face in Rick’s side, Rick with his teeth grit and hands clenched into tight fists. Pat cradles her in his arms, his little girl, his darling daughter, and is reminded of the last time he was here, holding a shining Star on his lap, and when he looks at Courtney and the trembling staff in her slack grip, he sees Sylvester, pushing the staff into his hand ten years ago and making him promise to keep it safe and find his successor, to keep the dream alive. He loved Sylvester, but he never would have made that promise if he had known that it would end up with his daughter on his lap, eyes staring blindly up at her namesake, her cold body limp in Pat’s grip. He brushes her blood-caked hair away from her face and tries to remember the lively girl he once knew, but in his arms, she didn’t move, not even when he begged her to. He must be cursed, he thinks, or poison. This is the second Star he’s lost, the second person he loved and let die. He should have protected her more, he thinks. He should have done something, anything, to stop that from happening, to keep her alive, to keep her _safe_. That’s what a father is supposed to do. Keep the children safe. And he failed. How was he supposed to tell Barbara…

But the next day, Courtney comes down the stairs like she always does, sleep-rumbled and yawning, her hair askew and her eyes crinkly with gunk. Her too-big pyjamas hang loosely on her, and she wraps the long sleeve around her hand as he serves her breakfast, briefly flashing him that bright and beautiful smile of hers. She joins him at the Pit Stop, a welcome presence as she sits atop a bench and kicks her feet idly while she listens to music and does her homework or entertains Pat with the latest Blue Valley gossip. She semi-reluctantly helps Mike teach Max some simple commands, holding a bag of treats and smelling of liver afterwards. She has dance parties with Yolanda, where they wear their pyjamas and sing and dances in her room with the door shut until the floor starts to shake and the windows rattle with the sound. She makes milkshakes with Beth, trying out different combinations and concoctions and then making her family the sometimes-unfortunate taste testers until they find the perfect ones. She trains with Rick, knowing when he comes in agitated and with anger seething under his skin, and will pick up the staff and let him throw punch after punch at her until they’re both panting and happily exhausted. Pat looks at her, sees the beautiful woman she is and the hero she has become, and can’t help but feel a little bit of pride, and hope that maybe this time, he won’t lose his Star.

Pat still has nightmares about the Justice Society dying. He still dreams of their broken and bleeding bodies and his inability to save them. Maybe he still regrets not being there, not dying with his fellow teammates.

But the Justice Society will always live. Courtney has made sure of that. And sure, maybe he dreams about them, too, about the kids being hurt and dying because of the foolish cause he and his friends came up with when they were young and dreamed of glory. But he gets to live with the knowledge that his team, his family, will live. They’ll live, and he’ll get to watch them grow up and grow old and hopefully go out kicking.

So until then, until the Justice Society ends once again, Pat just wants to be a part of it. He wants to be there for these kids. He wants to pick them up when they fall, be a shoulder to lean on, take care of them like nobody took care of them before. He wants to be the father they never had and to make that family out of each other, bits and bobs and battle armour. He wants to keep them safe. But he knows, deep down, that they don’t need him for any of that, don’t need his help to survive. But he’s forever grateful that he gets to do it anyway.

He dreams of the death of the Justice Society, but now, he knows that they’re nothing more than dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Does anybody know what members of the JSA were killed? Because in Pat's photo, we see so many members, like Hawkman and Johnny Thunder and stuff, but we only see a few members killed, and I don't know who died and who still lives?? And Pat has the artifacts of people who didn't see during that final battle. So am I going crazy or do you guys get me??


End file.
